CHAPTER 2
Four months later, Dana was finally home after staying with various members of her family. She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the same picture she had been staring at the day she found out about the fire. She had packed up all the pictures and all of Patrick's things. This one picture was all that was left. She ran her finger over Patrick's face. He had looked so handsome that day. His black tux had hung perfectly on his frame. He hadn't started drinking yet, so his stomach was flat, not round from too many beers and shots. His strawberry blond hair had been longer and thicker then, flopping over his forehead and brushing his eyes. Those dark brown eyes had been filled with so much love that day. So much had changed.
She shoved the frame into the box. The glass cracked on the corner of another frame. The split went right up between the two of them, branching off into another crack right across Patrick's face. How appropriate, she thought cynically.
Her children were dealing well, considering. Danny still asked her when Daddy would be home, but he was too young to understand. Emma understood that her daddy was never coming home, but she still cried at night. She knew what death was, and that he was gone for good. She was very mature for a four year old. It broke Dana's heart.
Emma walked into her mother's room, dragging a suitcase.
"You ready, baby?" Dana reached out and pulled her daughter into her lap.
"Yes mama. I packed my toys, but I can't fit none of Danny's toys in here." Emma looked so serious.
"That's okay hon., I'll put his toys in another bag."
"Mama, why are we going to Grammy's house?"
"Sweetie, mommy can't be here in this house. I thought I could, but it reminds me too much of Daddy. We're just going to take a little vacation at Gramma's. It'll be fun. You had fun at Uncle Bill's and Uncle Charlie's didn't you?" Emma nodded. "Well, Gramma misses you and she really wants us to come to her house. Okay?"
"Yes mama." Emma trudged out of the room, dragging the suitcase. Dana walked over to her closet and began pulling out clothes randomly, throwing them into the open bag on the bed. She had thought she would be able to handle being back, but after only three days, it was all too much for her. The house did remind her of Patrick, but it wasn't that she missed him. This house represented the last five years of her life-years tainted by the lies, the secrets, and the longing for a different life. It represented everything she had given up for a man who had destroyed her. She couldn't live in this house. Her kids didn't know it yet, but they were staying at her mother's until she found them a new house. She had the money from the life insurance to use for a down payment, and then the sale of this house would pay for the new one.
* * * * * *
Margaret Scully stood on her front porch, watching her daughter's blue SUV pull into the driveway. She was worried about Dana. She wasn't handling Patrick's betrayal and subsequent passing very well. She wasn't exactly broken up over her loss, but she seemed distant and withdrawn, even from her own children.
Dana threw the car into park, happy to be rid of the horrible atmosphere of her home. She unloaded her children and their belongings and led them up to the porch where her mother stood waiting. They went through the usual hugs and greetings, and then the suitcases were carried inside. As soon as they were in the house, the children ran to play in the big backyard on the swing-set Charlie had built for all the kids.
After they were out of earshot, Margaret went into the kitchen.
"Coffee, dear?" she asked Dana.
"Yeah, that sounds fine." Dana sounded distracted.
Margaret poured two cups and handed one to Dana. They walked to the dining table in front of the sliding glass door. It looked out on the backyard, and they could watch the kids from there. Dana wrapped her hands around her mug and looked out at her children playing.
"I'm worried about Emma," she said.
"Why's that?" her mother asked.
"She cries every night. She doesn't ask when he's coming home, like Danny does. She just asks God why he had to die."
"Dana, that's to be expected. Her father dies. I know he wasn't a great man, but Emma doesn't know that. A little girl is always going to see her daddy as the greatest man to have ever lived. You can't change that. When she's older, she'll understand."
"I know Mom, but how long do you think it will take her?"
"I don't know, dear, I really don't know. But you know who I'm worried about? I'm worried about you."
"Why?"
"I know you didn't really love Patrick in the end, but he was your husband. I know this has to be hard on you. I know what it's like to lose a husband, but not in the same way. When daddy died, at least I know he died with me and you kids in his heart. I just don't know if you are handling this well, keeping it all inside."
"Mom, I just don't really know what I feel. I don't know how to feel about this. I feel kind of hollow inside. It's like I feel nothing for him at all. He left his family for weeks at a time to go be with some other woman. A real man doesn't do that. If he wanted out, he should have asked for a divorce. I would have gladly given him one. He shouldn't have tried to have the best of both worlds. You can't have everything you want. You can't." With that, Dana slammed her coffee cup down on the table. The coffee sloshed over the rim onto the cream linen tablecloth. "Oh Mom, I'm sorry."
Margaret reached across the table and squeezed her daughter's hand. "I know, Dana, I know."
* * * * * *
Later that night, Dana was tucking Emma and Danny in. Danny looked up at her after he said his prayers. "Mommy, will daddy know where to find us at Gramma's house?"
"Honey," she said, pushing back the hair from his forehead, "Daddy isn't going to come here. And he isn't going to go home either. The only way you will see your daddy is in your memories and in your dreams and in your heart. Daddy is gone."
"He'll come back," Danny said, matter-of-factly. "I know he will. He won't leave me forever. He loves me. Whenever he went away before, he always came back."
Tears welled up in Dana's eyes at her son's unfailing devotion to his bastard of a father. She kissed him on the forehead and turned the lamp off.
"Sleep tight, baby. Sweet dreams."
In Emma's room, she said her usual prayers, then got to the part where she asked God to take care of the people in her life.
"Please watch over mommy and Grammy and Danny. Please keep all my aunts and uncles and cousins safe. And please keep Daddy safe in heaven. Please let him watch over us and love us forever. Amen."
Then the tears started. Dana sat down on the bed and held Emma until her crying subsided into quiet whimpers.
"Em, you going to be okay, sweetie?" The little girl nodded silently and cuddled her ragged stuffed alien. "If you need me, just call. I'll be downstairs with Gramma, okay?" Then Dana turned off the lights and shut the door.
She walked down the stairs to the den where her mother was sitting in front of the fire. She sat down on the leather loveseat and wrapped a blanket around her legs.
"He's in town you know," her mother said, out of the darkness.
"Who?" Dana asked.
"You know exactly who I'm talking about. Fox Mulder." With her mother's announcement, Dana's heart skipped a beat. "We've kept in touch. He moved to Chicago four years ago, but he's back. He's in D.C. for good. They're reopening the X-Files. I know you saw him at Patrick's funeral. He felt that he didn't have a right to be there, but he did want you to know he cared. He just didn't want to intrude. When was the last time you spoke to him?"
Dana couldn't get the words out at first. "Umm . . . Right after Emma's birth. He brought here that locket and the stuffed alien. That was four years ago."
"Four years is a long time to go without seeing your best friend, dear."
"Mom, I haven't talked to him in four years. What do I have to say to him now?"
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe it's time he knows the truth. Don't you think it's his right?"
* * * * * *
Dana lay in bed later that night, thinking. She couldn't believe her mother had said that. She had no idea what she was referring to. There was no way she could know the real truth.
After her mother's proclamation, she hadn't known what to say. She had just stood up, and said she was going to bed. She knew that it was basically an admission that she was hiding something, but she had panicked. There was no way she was sleeping now. Mulder was definitely on her mind tonight. She hadn't spoken to him in ages, she had no idea what he was up to these days, and yet she still felt unbelievably close to him. She was sure that if she saw him again, they would have no trouble talking for hours. Right before she finally drifted off to sleep, she admitted to herself that she missed him. A lot.
Four months later, Dana was finally home after staying with various members of her family. She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the same picture she had been staring at the day she found out about the fire. She had packed up all the pictures and all of Patrick's things. This one picture was all that was left. She ran her finger over Patrick's face. He had looked so handsome that day. His black tux had hung perfectly on his frame. He hadn't started drinking yet, so his stomach was flat, not round from too many beers and shots. His strawberry blond hair had been longer and thicker then, flopping over his forehead and brushing his eyes. Those dark brown eyes had been filled with so much love that day. So much had changed.
She shoved the frame into the box. The glass cracked on the corner of another frame. The split went right up between the two of them, branching off into another crack right across Patrick's face. How appropriate, she thought cynically.
Her children were dealing well, considering. Danny still asked her when Daddy would be home, but he was too young to understand. Emma understood that her daddy was never coming home, but she still cried at night. She knew what death was, and that he was gone for good. She was very mature for a four year old. It broke Dana's heart.
Emma walked into her mother's room, dragging a suitcase.
"You ready, baby?" Dana reached out and pulled her daughter into her lap.
"Yes mama. I packed my toys, but I can't fit none of Danny's toys in here." Emma looked so serious.
"That's okay hon., I'll put his toys in another bag."
"Mama, why are we going to Grammy's house?"
"Sweetie, mommy can't be here in this house. I thought I could, but it reminds me too much of Daddy. We're just going to take a little vacation at Gramma's. It'll be fun. You had fun at Uncle Bill's and Uncle Charlie's didn't you?" Emma nodded. "Well, Gramma misses you and she really wants us to come to her house. Okay?"
"Yes mama." Emma trudged out of the room, dragging the suitcase. Dana walked over to her closet and began pulling out clothes randomly, throwing them into the open bag on the bed. She had thought she would be able to handle being back, but after only three days, it was all too much for her. The house did remind her of Patrick, but it wasn't that she missed him. This house represented the last five years of her life-years tainted by the lies, the secrets, and the longing for a different life. It represented everything she had given up for a man who had destroyed her. She couldn't live in this house. Her kids didn't know it yet, but they were staying at her mother's until she found them a new house. She had the money from the life insurance to use for a down payment, and then the sale of this house would pay for the new one.
* * * * * *
Margaret Scully stood on her front porch, watching her daughter's blue SUV pull into the driveway. She was worried about Dana. She wasn't handling Patrick's betrayal and subsequent passing very well. She wasn't exactly broken up over her loss, but she seemed distant and withdrawn, even from her own children.
Dana threw the car into park, happy to be rid of the horrible atmosphere of her home. She unloaded her children and their belongings and led them up to the porch where her mother stood waiting. They went through the usual hugs and greetings, and then the suitcases were carried inside. As soon as they were in the house, the children ran to play in the big backyard on the swing-set Charlie had built for all the kids.
After they were out of earshot, Margaret went into the kitchen.
"Coffee, dear?" she asked Dana.
"Yeah, that sounds fine." Dana sounded distracted.
Margaret poured two cups and handed one to Dana. They walked to the dining table in front of the sliding glass door. It looked out on the backyard, and they could watch the kids from there. Dana wrapped her hands around her mug and looked out at her children playing.
"I'm worried about Emma," she said.
"Why's that?" her mother asked.
"She cries every night. She doesn't ask when he's coming home, like Danny does. She just asks God why he had to die."
"Dana, that's to be expected. Her father dies. I know he wasn't a great man, but Emma doesn't know that. A little girl is always going to see her daddy as the greatest man to have ever lived. You can't change that. When she's older, she'll understand."
"I know Mom, but how long do you think it will take her?"
"I don't know, dear, I really don't know. But you know who I'm worried about? I'm worried about you."
"Why?"
"I know you didn't really love Patrick in the end, but he was your husband. I know this has to be hard on you. I know what it's like to lose a husband, but not in the same way. When daddy died, at least I know he died with me and you kids in his heart. I just don't know if you are handling this well, keeping it all inside."
"Mom, I just don't really know what I feel. I don't know how to feel about this. I feel kind of hollow inside. It's like I feel nothing for him at all. He left his family for weeks at a time to go be with some other woman. A real man doesn't do that. If he wanted out, he should have asked for a divorce. I would have gladly given him one. He shouldn't have tried to have the best of both worlds. You can't have everything you want. You can't." With that, Dana slammed her coffee cup down on the table. The coffee sloshed over the rim onto the cream linen tablecloth. "Oh Mom, I'm sorry."
Margaret reached across the table and squeezed her daughter's hand. "I know, Dana, I know."
* * * * * *
Later that night, Dana was tucking Emma and Danny in. Danny looked up at her after he said his prayers. "Mommy, will daddy know where to find us at Gramma's house?"
"Honey," she said, pushing back the hair from his forehead, "Daddy isn't going to come here. And he isn't going to go home either. The only way you will see your daddy is in your memories and in your dreams and in your heart. Daddy is gone."
"He'll come back," Danny said, matter-of-factly. "I know he will. He won't leave me forever. He loves me. Whenever he went away before, he always came back."
Tears welled up in Dana's eyes at her son's unfailing devotion to his bastard of a father. She kissed him on the forehead and turned the lamp off.
"Sleep tight, baby. Sweet dreams."
In Emma's room, she said her usual prayers, then got to the part where she asked God to take care of the people in her life.
"Please watch over mommy and Grammy and Danny. Please keep all my aunts and uncles and cousins safe. And please keep Daddy safe in heaven. Please let him watch over us and love us forever. Amen."
Then the tears started. Dana sat down on the bed and held Emma until her crying subsided into quiet whimpers.
"Em, you going to be okay, sweetie?" The little girl nodded silently and cuddled her ragged stuffed alien. "If you need me, just call. I'll be downstairs with Gramma, okay?" Then Dana turned off the lights and shut the door.
She walked down the stairs to the den where her mother was sitting in front of the fire. She sat down on the leather loveseat and wrapped a blanket around her legs.
"He's in town you know," her mother said, out of the darkness.
"Who?" Dana asked.
"You know exactly who I'm talking about. Fox Mulder." With her mother's announcement, Dana's heart skipped a beat. "We've kept in touch. He moved to Chicago four years ago, but he's back. He's in D.C. for good. They're reopening the X-Files. I know you saw him at Patrick's funeral. He felt that he didn't have a right to be there, but he did want you to know he cared. He just didn't want to intrude. When was the last time you spoke to him?"
Dana couldn't get the words out at first. "Umm . . . Right after Emma's birth. He brought here that locket and the stuffed alien. That was four years ago."
"Four years is a long time to go without seeing your best friend, dear."
"Mom, I haven't talked to him in four years. What do I have to say to him now?"
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe it's time he knows the truth. Don't you think it's his right?"
* * * * * *
Dana lay in bed later that night, thinking. She couldn't believe her mother had said that. She had no idea what she was referring to. There was no way she could know the real truth.
After her mother's proclamation, she hadn't known what to say. She had just stood up, and said she was going to bed. She knew that it was basically an admission that she was hiding something, but she had panicked. There was no way she was sleeping now. Mulder was definitely on her mind tonight. She hadn't spoken to him in ages, she had no idea what he was up to these days, and yet she still felt unbelievably close to him. She was sure that if she saw him again, they would have no trouble talking for hours. Right before she finally drifted off to sleep, she admitted to herself that she missed him. A lot.